


next year we may all be living in the past

by cupcakeb



Series: holiday fills [2]
Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Angst, Christmas Eve, F/M, Future Fic, Half-Sibling Incest, have yourself an angsty little christmas, this is basically how I headcanon them co-existing in the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27660935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupcakeb/pseuds/cupcakeb
Summary: Christmas is the only time he sees Lu these days. That’s not to say they had a falling out, but she’s married, and a mother and a cutthroat marketing professional and he’s… A guy in his thirties with a cute calico cat and the same job he’s been doing since he was nineteen.It's the only time he gets to see her. Maybe that's why it's his least favorite time of the year.
Relationships: Lucrecia "Lu" Montesinos Hendrich/Valerio Montesinos Hendrich, background Lu/Guzmán
Series: holiday fills [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035375
Comments: 18
Kudos: 47





	next year we may all be living in the past

**Author's Note:**

> today's title is from [Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas](https://open.spotify.com/track/030mot3ZKR3oskfMsqDB2R?si=MMvEzQf8TcqudrUnW43A0Q) (but the depressing original lyrics)

It’s his least favorite time of the year.  
  
He wants to strangle every single person trying to spread holiday cheer — there’s no need to rub it in his face.  
  
Valerio used to love Christmas. He used to love a lot of things — parties, coke, one night stands… the list is long. He’s not that person anymore.  
  
In your thirties, chances are the only reason you might actually love Christmas is if you have kids, and _they_ love it. He’s single and has thankfully not accidentally impregnated anyone over the years, so there are no mini Valerios running around stirring shit up.  
  
When some chipper middle-aged woman with an obnoxious smile and a Jesus sweatshirt tries to convince him to take one of her free Christmas cookies and a flyer to learn all about ‘the reason for the season’, he takes the cookie, then a bite and frowns at her. “If there was a god, this cookie wouldn’t be so dry.”  
  
December sucks. At least he’s got a sense of humor about it.  
  
***  
  
Christmas is the only time he sees Lu these days. That’s not to say they had a falling out, but she’s married, and a _mother_ and a cutthroat marketing professional and he’s… A guy in his thirties with a cute calico cat and the same job he’s been doing since he was nineteen. The same job he’s only ever been passable at.  
  
Lu and Guzmán have been married for over nine years. They seem happy, mostly. They’ve definitely seemed happier since Lu told him she doesn’t want him to _interfere_ in her _business_ anymore. That’s Lu lingo for _‘I’m too fucking weak to stop running to you for a good cry and completely inappropriate physical comforting whenever my husband pisses me off’_ and he’d actually laughed at her when she brought it up. Pretty sure he’s not the one interfering when she’s always the one seeking him out.  
  
That was almost four years ago, and he didn’t think she meant it. He didn’t think she’d literally stop seeing him in person to avoid temptation. It’s absolutely ridiculous, honestly, that she doesn’t trust herself to be around him. They’re adults, and he’s got a handle on his… desires. If she doesn’t, that’s on her.  
  
He’s definitely the fun uncle. His niece and nephew are six and four, and Guzmán drops them off at his place every Wednesday for a sleepover — he’s an _involved_ uncle who plays with the kids and bathes them and reads to them and takes them to school. They love him, and he loves them, and Guzmán has only ever made subtle, snide remarks about the fact that Lu refuses to be the one dropping them off. He must know there’s a reason Lu barely speaks to him, but he hasn’t asked and at this point, Valerio knows he won’t.

He wouldn’t know what to tell him anyway.  
  
***

Sometimes she can’t avoid him, and that’s even worse because she always seems relieved, almost, to see him. Like she doesn’t allow herself to purposefully run into him but she’ll gladly accept fate has laid a hand when she does.

It’s hardly fate. They’re at the elementary school Christmas showcase, and he’s not biased or anything but Sofia is obviously the best singer in this number. It’s ridiculous how much she looks like Lu, safe for the blue eyes that were definitely not passed down from her mother's side. It’s the attitude with which she’s singing this Christmas carol that’s making him chuckle and glance at Lu and Guzmán on either side of him.

“She’s a carbon copy of you,” he whispers to Lu and tells Guzmán the same when he grins at him.

Lu smiles wistfully, then shrugs. “I think she’s smarter than me.”

He ignores the way her fingers are digging into his thigh.

***

Christmas Eve at Lu and Guzmán’s house is everything their childhood Christmases weren’t. The adults — the three of them and Guzmán’s parents — are all chipper and excited and no one is forcing the kids to sit still and hide how stoked they are to get to open presents soon.

The grandparents leave, and Guzmán kisses Lu’s cheek and tells her he’ll go tuck the kids into bed, and Lu once again looks way too happy to be alone with him, considering she generally avoids him like the plague.

He pours the remaining bit of red wine into her glass, then pops a piece of gingerbread into his mouth and grins at her.

Her lips are a little blue from the wine and her cheeks are flushed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He doesn’t want to be too serious, not after two bottles of wine and a great night with the family. He doesn’t think it would be fair, honestly, to bring it up when she’s clearly drunk and he hasn’t really spoken to her in almost a year.

“You know I love Christmas.”

Lu scoots closer to him on the couch, then puts her head on his shoulder and runs a hand down his chest to play with the buttons of his shirt. It’s innocent enough that if Guzmán came back and found them like this, he’d probably think it’s cute, but it’s also intimate enough to make him want to fucking devour her. It’s been too long since he got to touch her.

Lu hums low, her voice brimming with pensive thought. “I know you do.”

He hates Christmas.

***  
  
He wishes he had something to remember their encounters by somehow. Most of them, anyway. Maybe a souvenir other than the bite marks on his neck, the aggressive scratches she tends to leave all along the ridges of muscle on his back.  
  
But there isn’t, and he can’t. He always forgets the details of these nights; the moments that feel so impactful and all-consuming and real when they’re happening and then, just like that, _poof_ , they're gone . Locked away somewhere deep in his subconscious, never to be accessed again. He always feels drained and empty for a couple of days after.  
  
He wishes it wasn’t all so fleeting.  
  
Once a year, like clockwork. That’s when he gets to have her. When she lets him have her.  
  
There are birds chirping, and the sun is coming in through the window. Lu is on her stomach next to him, the sheets bunched around her hip, snoring softly.  
  
She always snores after a little too much wine.  
  
Valerio turns, slides a hand over her back, and hums.  
  
Merry fucking Christmas to him.  
  
***  
  
Something must be wrong. That’s the only reason why Lu might be calling him in the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday in March. He hasn’t heard from her since Christmas Day, when Guzmán took the kids to see his grandparents and Lu faked a headache to spend the day with him.  


“What’s up,” he says, trying for nonchalant even though his heart is racing.

“Are you home?” It feels like a rhetorical question, because she knows he works from home, and he doesn’t answer. “I’ll be over in five.”

She sounds resigned to it, and he doesn’t feel like confronting her now. Maybe that’s the whole problem here — he just always finds excuses not to talk to her about this.

Minutes later, Lu breezes into his apartment, using a spare key he forgot she had. She’s in a black pantsuit, so she must’ve come here straight from work, and he’s seriously wondering why the hell she sought him out.

When he just stares at her from his spot on the couch and doesn’t get up to greet her she huffs, then crosses her arms in front of her chest and steps closer to him.

He likes provoking her with silence, likes making her ponder what he might be thinking as he keeps quiet. It tends to get a reaction out of her.

“Aren’t you gonna ask why I’m here?”

No, he isn’t. He knows she’ll tell him anyway, and if she doesn’t, she’ll have her reasons for that, too. He shakes his head and watches a grin make its way onto her lips. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I got promoted.”

Good for her. That’s his first reaction. Then he remembers how overworked she already is, how often he hears Sofia and Matteo talk about how their parents are never around. This probably isn’t gonna make this any better.

He sees her flinch a little when he says, “And you’re happy about that,” and he’s not trying to be a dick, honestly. He’s just trying to figure out what she wants him to say.  


Her grin turns into a little bit of a frown, and then she’s sitting down next to him, her knees brushing his thigh when she pulls her legs up under her. He knew the second she walked in here that there’s no way she only came over to share the good news with him.

“I feel guilty for being happy,” she says, then gives him this sad look. “The kids already tell their teachers mommy’s never home.”

He doesn’t know what to tell her.

“It’s not like daddy’s around much either, your kids need to learn about the sexist double standards at work in our society.”

She hits his shoulder playfully and groans, and her hand lingers on his arm. Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, and her eyes dart up to his and he knows what’s about to happen. He knows, and he knows he shouldn’t let her do this, but that’s never stopped him before.

He watches it happen as though he’s not an active participant in all of this; watches how his hands go out to grab her arm and pull her into his lap. Then she’s right in front of him, her eyes dark with an especially toxic sort of need, and he’s pulling her closer even if his brain is telling him not to.

When she kisses him, he wastes no time coercing her mouth open for him. There’s very little coercing involved because she goes completely pliant in his arms, gives herself over to his touch, and he feels heady with the power that comes with that.

Her hands go out to fumble with his belt, and he pushes her pantsuit jacket off her shoulder and onto the floor. Normally she’d definitely moan about that and tell him it’ll wrinkle, but not now.

This is so, so stupid. It’s something they’ve been doing for over fifteen years, no matter how hard they’ve tried to stop. It was stupid even then; it’s colossally stupid now.

Her hand is on his chest, her tongue in his mouth, and he hears her whine when he grabs her shoulders and pushes away from her, holding her at arm's length. She sits back on his knees, her chest still heaving, and there’s a pout on her face and a question in her eyes.

(You wouldn’t deny me, would you?)

He’s fucking tired of this. He was just coming to terms with not getting her like this when she pulled that shit in December. She doesn’t get to decide for him.

“Go home to your kids, Lu.”

That makes her eyes narrow and the scoff she lets out is indignant and frustrated and raw. Teenage Lu would’ve slapped him now, but over the years he’s sure she’s realized just how right he tends to be when he intervenes and puts a stop to things.

There are tears in her eyes. They compliment her smudged red lipstick, make her look like a tragic battered wife engaging in a scandalous affair.

He doesn’t look up again until he hears her close the door behind herself.   
  
He doesn't answer her calls for the next week, either. She stops trying after that.   


***

Guzmán looks proud when he mentions Lu’s promotion to him as he drops the kids off a few days later.

“That’s awesome,” Valerio hears himself say, then can’t help but add, “Have you guys figured out how childcare’s gonna work if Lu is gonna be traveling more?”

The pale man laughs and shakes his head. “Probably a live-in nanny. You interested in the gig?”

Sofia is tugging on his leg, screeching about how she wants to show him something she made at school, so he grins at Guzmán and shrugs. “I’m good.”

“That’s too bad.”

He's smiling but he feels like punching a wall.

***

He _wants_ to hate Guzmán. It was easy enough to in high school when he was a cheater and a spoiled little boy with anger issues and a laundry list of mental problems for some lucky therapist to someday get to sort through.   
  
Grown-up Guzmán isn't like that at all. He's caring and genuine and his sense of humor still reeks of classism, but the boyish grin that looks somewhat out of place on his aging face means he pulls it off without causing offense.   
  
Wanting Lu would be easier if Valerio thought her husband wasn't good to her.  
  
He wanted to hate the kids, too. God, he remembers when she first told him the news, how he'd hugged them both and smiled and enthused about it before he ran off to drink himself into a fucking stupor, enraged that she didn't have the guts to fucking warn him, to maybe tell him without her fucking _husband_ in the room.   
  
But that's the thing; he fucking loves the kids. He really likes Guzmán.   
  
He loathes that there's no real place for him in their lives.   
  
The fun uncle and the chill brother in law who you can have a beer with are fun characters to play; he nails those parts.   
  
He's never quite figured out how to be a big brother to Lu.   
  
***  
  
In early June, Lu wakes him up by sitting down on his bed and pulling back the covers. Her hand is cold on his chest, and he’s disoriented when he blinks open an eye and sees Lu with her hair pulled back tight, a nervous smile on her face.

For a second he thinks he must be dreaming. He hasn’t seen her since Guzmán’s birthday party in April.

“Lu?”

She doesn’t say anything, just moves so she’s sitting in his lap and he feels powerless to stop her.  
  
He’s thirty-four, not fifteen, and she’s almost thirty-three, and yet he instantly feels transported back to that stupid night in Abu Dhabi that started it all, when she came to his room crying and he accidentally found himself comforting her with touches, not words.  
  
“Lu, I have a meeting in thirty minutes.”  
  
The practical way he says it makes her laugh, and then she mumbles something about being on her way to the airport for a work trip anyway, whispers, “Twenty minutes is plenty,” and he lets her kiss him.  
  
He’s such a fucking fool.  
  
***  
  
For Lu and Guzmán’s ten year wedding anniversary in July, he agrees to watch the kids for a whole weekend and laughs when Lu makes a joke about never having imagined that she’d ever trust him with her children one day.  
  
“He’s a bad influence,” Guzmán jokes when he walks into the kitchen carrying a duffel bag packed for their weekend away. “Matteo is taking after the reckless side of the Montesinos clan these days.”  
  
The boy is definitely taking after Valerio, in terms of personality. He’s too fun-loving, and caring, and rowdy to be taking after Lu, and a little too introspective to be taking after his father. He’s got her looks, though — dark eyes, big, full lips, and mahogany hair that curls adorably around his little squishy face.  
  
Sometimes Valerio wonders if there’s a reason why Lu always laughs a little louder when Guzmán jokes about this stuff.  
  
***  
  
She doesn’t stop coming to see him all year.  
  
It’s sporadic and never planned. She never asks if she’s welcome, and he never tells her she isn’t.She might be.  
  
When she makes up a whole business trip to spend a Saturday with him, he very nearly calls her bluff.  
  
“What are we doing?” he asks when she’s naked in his lap, her hair a complete mess around her head.  
  
She bites her lip, then leans forward to bite his, and he knows this is the only answer he’s ever gonna get.  
  
***  
  
He’s over at Carla and Samuel’s place for dinner. They do this sometimes because he and Carla work together and Samuel happens to live with her, so they’re friendly.  
  
“Lu sent me the cutest picture of the kids the other day,” Carla says, then unlocks her phone to find it and hands it to Samu, who leans over so Valerio can see the screen, too. It’s from last week, from Halloween, and Sofia’s in this cute baroque princess gown while Matteo’s wearing a vampire costume, plastic teeth in his mouth and a trail of fake blood dripping down his chin. They look adorable. “Kind of reminded me of that Halloween party our senior year.”  
  
Samu chokes on his beer, and both Carla and Valerio turn to stare at him, bewildered, probably for entirely unrelated reasons.  
  
He looks at them apologetically, then glances at Valerio. “Sorry, went down the wrong pipe.”  
  
To break the weird tension, he reaches for Carla’s phone and zooms in. “He really pulls off the teeth.”  
  
Samuel is a little too quick to laugh at that, and they don’t talk about why.  
  
***

The year comes and goes, and soon it’s Christmas again. He doesn’t know how to feel about that, now that he’s seeing Lu all the time. Only seeing her for the holidays made them a little more bearable.  
  
He doesn’t like how they’ve gone back to their default modus operandi. Those three years where he didn’t need to worry about the fucking secrecy of it all were hell because he missed her, but it was a relief, too. 

Christmas Eve is honestly a really good time. The food is amazing — he knows no one in attendance cooked it, that’s for sure — and there’s wine aplenty, and the kids are obviously incredibly hyped to be opening presents soon.

Lu excuses herself during dinner, and when he follows her, he finds her throwing up in the bathroom. She didn’t lock the door, because she’s become such a mom about that — always available if the kids decide to run in — and he sighs when he sits down on the edge of the tub and watches her wipe at her lips with the back of her hand.   
  
She’s been working herself incredibly hard all year, even before the promotion, and he knows this is how she copes. He knows she wouldn’t let it get out of hand. It never has before.  
  
He gets up, finds some mouthwash in the cabinet and hands it to her when she’s back on her feet.  
  
The grateful little smile on her lips nearly makes him cry; he’s not quite sure why.  
  
Back at the table, Guzmán looks back and forth between them, then addresses Lu. “Everything okay?”  
  
She nods, and Valerio interjects, “Just Santa business,” and winks, which instantly results in excited theories from the kids, both dying to find out what they’re getting for Christmas.   
  
Under the table, Lu’s hand lands on his knee.

**Author's Note:**

> find me [on tumblr](http://cupcakeb.tumblr.com/)


End file.
